Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Cape Verde and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Terrestrial Tones to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Fraelich record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Alice Coltrane,
Supertramp,
Nils Olav,
Sandy B,
Matthew Halsall,
Agent Orange,
Dorothy Ashby,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Soft Cell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Section 25,
Suburban Knight,
Minor Threat,
Terrestrial Tones,
Colin Newman,
The Doobie Brothers,
Erasure,
Minutemen,
Amazonics,
Inner City,
A Certain Ratio,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Susan Cadogan,
Neu!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Graham Central Station,
Second Layer,
Severed Heads,
Shoche,
Jimmy McGriff,
MDC,
The Detroit Cobras,
Smog,
B.T. Express,
Scratch Acid,
Pierre Henry,
Television Personalities,
Danielle Patucci,
Ken Boothe,
the Germs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brass Construction,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pere Ubu,
the Normal,
Radio Birdman,
The Durutti Column,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funkadelic,
The Moleskins,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soul II Soul,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.